


Oft I Strayed

by Kivrin



Series: Through All the Length of Days [4]
Category: Foyle's War
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Pining, post-breakup regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin/pseuds/Kivrin
Summary: Andrew has regrets.Set duringBurn Brighter Through the Cold.





	Oft I Strayed

Sam knew - _of course,_ Andrew thought- how to change a bed with someone in it. Sergeant Milner arrived when they were about to start, and instantly shucked off his overcoat to help Andrew turn his father first to the near side of the bed, then onto the fresh sheets, while Sam rapidly folded up the sweat-damp bedclothes and smoothed the new ones into place. Beside Milner’s suit-clad height, Andrew felt small and disheveled, suddenly aware that his shirttails were trying to escape, he had cough syrup on his sleeve, and his collar was crushed. 

“You roll, I’ll tuck,” Sam said to Milner, and they smiled at each other in a way that made Andrew forget to breathe. _Don’t be an ass_ , he said to himself. _It’s nothing to do with you._

_You saw to that._

Dad frowned as they turned him, and his breath rumbled wetly in his chest when they had to let him lie flat, but he didn’t wake. Once he was settled against the pillows again, the lines smoothed out of his face, and his breathing eased. All the same, Andrew checked the warmth of his forehead again, still not quite daring to believe the fever had broken. 

“Is he..?” Sam asked softly.

Andrew opened his mouth to answer, then had to shut it fast when his throat went tight and he realized his voice was going to break if he tried to say anything. He nodded hard and made some unnecessary adjustments to the counterpane. 

“I’ll let… let Milner out,” she said. For a moment Andrew thought she’d touch his arm, but she moved on past him and ushered Milner ahead of her into the hall.

 _The sergeant’s been helping him shave and things_ , Sam had said, and Andrew had joked _Brave man_ , meaning only that Dad took assistance with poor grace. But she’d answered _He is_ in all seriousness. And when Andrew had wondered if Dad’s mumbled “Peter” meant he wanted Milner, she’d shaken her head and said, immediately, _He’s called Paul._ But he’d been too busy, and much too frightened, to think about that at the time. 

And then he’d gone and all but hugged her in the flood of relief when they found Dad’s temperature nearly normal. “Bloody hell,” he whispered out loud. “Bloody _hell.”_

_You said yourself she should begin again,_ he thought _. And isn’t Milner what she deserves? A good, good-looking man with a steady, responsible job who doesn’t mess her - doesn’t mess anyone - about?_

The hall light went out, the front door opened and closed, and the light came back on, but Sam did not reappear. Andrew waited, matching his own breaths to Dad’s slow, steady ones, until he could bear it no longer and went looking for her.

He didn’t need to go far. She was just down the hall, sitting on the floor next to the dining chair where, sometime in the afternoon, they’d abandoned the sandwiches they couldn’t face along with the baked custard they’d tried and failed to spoon into Dad. She had her legs out straight in front of her (one stocking up, one stocking down), her back to the wall, her head bent as she crammed a sandwich into her mouth with one hand and cupped the other beneath to catch the crumbs. She looked rumpled and exhausted and beautiful. Andrew dug his nails into his palms before he spoke.

“All right?”

Sam looked up with a hand pressed to her busy lips. “Sorry,” she said, when she’d swallowed. “All at once I’m famished. You must be, too.”

He shrugged and glanced back towards Dad’s room, but his stomach rumbled audibly.

“I’ll sit with him if you…”

“No. No, I’ll leave the door open, so…” Andrew shrugged again. “Thanks.”

Sam looked away, then pushed the plate of sandwiches towards him.

Andrew took one and sat down on the floor, on the other side of the chair. He wanted to sit next to her; he wanted to do more than that. Instead he took a bite of the dry bread and cheese. 

“How did you leave it with Dr. Davies?” Sam asked. 

“He said he’d be back in the morning, unless…” could he say _we_ in _we sent for him?_ Andrew wasn’t sure. “Unless things became alarming. _More_ alarming,” he added in an undertone. 

“Mm.” Sam took another sandwich. 

Half-formed sentences drifted through Andrew’s mind. _I’m glad you have… I wish you both… I was a fool…_ He let his head rest against the wall. _I, I, I. That’s the problem._

Dad coughed, and they both tensed, but it only lasted a moment. 

“There’s Bovril,” Sam said, tapping the side of the jug. “Not hot anymore, but…”

“That sounds marvelous.”

She grinned. “It does, doesn’t it?”

 _Don’t be an ass_ , Andrew said to himself, over and over, as they passed the jug back and forth and devoured the sandwiches. _Be grateful you have this much, this moment, with her._ Still, when he watched her strong, slender fingers at her lips, and remembered her steady voice saying “It will be all right,” he felt as if his oxygen line had split at twenty thousand feet. 

**Author's Note:**

> For PaulineDorchester, who wanted a look inside Andrew's head during Burn Brighter Through the Cold.


End file.
